


Old Souls

by doobler



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Eventual Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 11:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17866064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doobler/pseuds/doobler
Summary: Stephen Strange has been sent as an emissary to build relations between the Avengers and the X-Men. He expected to make friends. He didn't expect to fall in love.





	Old Souls

_Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters_

_1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center_

_Westchester County, New York._

Stephen double checked the business card against the gate before him. He was certainly in the right place. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected but what he saw wasn't it. The mansion was enormous and, while in perfect condition, seemed a little unkempt. The gravel road leading in needed some paving, the gate was visibly rusted in a few places, and nearly every inch of brick on display was enshrouded in lengths of creeping ivy. Stephen thought about his own home back on Bleecker street and the oddity that was the Sanctum Sanctorum and decided it was best to just keep his mouth shut.

He went to buzz himself in when the gates eeked open, swinging inward and inviting him inside. Inhaling deeply, he made his way down the path.

 

The closer he got to the school, the more relaxed he became. There was a sort of charm that emanated from the infrastructure, like a home well lived in. He could hear children playing in the distance, a basketball thumping against blacktop, the babbling of a fountain. It was nothing like SHIELD's compound, all steel and cold and unfeeling. Even the Avengers Tower didn't feel this homey, still too new and untouched to be truly comfortable. 

"Hey! Who are you?"

Stephen looked up, smiling at the pair of kids leaning out of the window above him.

"Hello!" He called back, waving. "I'm here to meet with Dr.McCoy and Professor Xavier! Could you tell them I've arrived?"

"They probably already know you're here!" The older girl replied. Her bright yellow jacket was blinding. "Go ahead inside, mister!"

"Thank you!"

With a renewed energy, Stephen strode a bit faster, reaching the door in a few long-legged steps. He didn't even knock before the door opened, revealing a rather pretty woman with long red hair and piercing green eyes.

"Oh!" She looked a bit surprised but smiled. "You must be..."

"Strange. Stephen Strange, I was sent here by director Fury. Well. I was suggested to come at the very least."

"Well I'm glad you took that suggestion to heart," The woman beamed, extending her hand. "I'm Dr.Jean Grey, it's a pleasure."

"You certainly have a lot of professionals in one building, eh?" Stephen laughed, shaking her hand. She didn't seem remotely fazed that he was wearing gloves on such a warm spring day.

"Not really, it's just the three of us," Jean rolled her eyes playfully. "It's mostly children and adult-children if you get my meaning."

"Oh don't worry, I absolutely understand."

Jean walked Stephen inside, talking easily about the history of the mansion and its inhabitants. He mostly listened, captivated by the flow of life around him. There were people of every age and size, from younger tweens to older teenagers, young adults and even a few people his age. Many of them looked like average people but every so often there was a child with bony spines protruding from his arms or a man with blue skin and a tail. A girl walked right by him and through the wall. It was incredible, lighting a subtle warmth in Stephen's core.

"I've seen that look before," Jean grinned, hands on her hips. "I'm guessing the Avengers aren't nearly as colorful?"

"They are, it's just... Different," Stephen replied. "I can't... Really explain it."

"You don't have to, I understand."

Jean led them both down a few winding hallways until they reached a door bigger and fancier than the rest. She eased it open and Stephen peered inside. An older man in a wheelchair was speaking to a class, all of whom seemed completely focused on his words. Stephen couldn't exactly pick up on what he was saying but he caught a few words here and there, mostly "evolution", "hereditary genes", "mutations", and "generational". Suddenly, the man glanced upwards and a chill shot down Stephen's spine.

" _Welcome, Dr.Strange_."

Jean gave him a knowing smile, nudging him forward and through the door. Stephen stood there awkwardly, fists at his sides, as a few dozen eyes stared right back at him.

"Class, this is Dr.Stephen Strange," The man explained. His voice was so kind, so full of warmth and heart, Stephen felt something well up inside him. He'd never felt so safe. "He's an Avenger and has come to take a look at our program."

A chorus of greetings rang out and Stephen smiled shyly. Just then, a bell rang over the PA and a few of the kids groaned.

"Alright students, class dismissed!" The man eased his wheelchair around the children's seats, taking the spot behind the room's solitary desk. "Remember your homework, to chart out a four generation family tree of yourself! We'll be further discussing genetics and their roles next class."

The kids filed out, a few smiling or waving at Stephen, and then suddenly, they were alone.

"Have a seat, doctor," The man beamed, pouring himself a glass of water. "Would you like a drink?"

"Oh. Uh, no thank you."

Stephen tucked his long coat beneath him as he sat, gloved hands crossed and set in his lap. The man watched him, still smiling.

"I am Professor Charles Xavier," He recited, dipping his head slightly. "I was delighted to receive a message from director Fury that a representative of the Avengers would be visiting us today."

"I'm glad you accepted the invitation," Stephen smiled. "I'm a little slow when it comes to hero stuff so I hadn't even heard of the X-Men until recently."

"Yes, well, there hasn't been much need for my team until recently," Xavier frowned a fraction, concern furrowing his brow. "Times have gotten harder, threats nearly constant now. Evil is no longer afraid and hiding. Since that alien attack on New York City, it seems like evil never sleeps."

Xavier perked up again, leaning forward.

"Which is why I'm so happy you came. This odd rift between our two collectives is silly. It's about time the Avengers and the X-Men made a connection."

"I agree wholeheartedly," Stephen returned his smile. "That's why they sent me specifically. I'm a bit of a third party member, my duty is to the world of magic first and the Avengers second. I believe Fury thinks my ability to be nonpartisan will help things be much smoother."

"It's simply the arrogance of our humanity that keeps us apart. We have much more in common than you realize."

"Much more than  _they_  realize," Stephen countered. "As a sorcerer, I'm a being of both magic and mortality. I know how closely they can align, two sides of the same coin, interconnected, like humans and mutants."

Xavier truly beamed at that, reaching out to clasp one of Stephen's hands in both of his own.

"I like you already, Dr.Strange."

"Please, just Stephen is fine."

 

Jean and Xavier decided to continue the tour together with Stephen trailing directly behind. He was shown the kitchen (three times the size of any SHIELD compound kitchen), multiple living rooms (all full of life, be it kids sat in front of a TV, adults playing foosball, or a variety of people reading quietly), the balconies that overlooked the property (all maintained), and the various amenities outside. Stephen saw kids on a basketball court, a pool, a few ponds, a garden, and an expansive wooded area. His heart gave a tight squeeze. There were so many people, all mutants, living in harmony and appropriately cared for.

"--but Ororo is out on holiday and Scott had an errand down in New York City." Xavier's voice suddenly phased back into Stephen's ears. 

"Colussus just left with some students on a field trip," Jean added, brow furrowed. "We're really lacking in adults today."

"What about him?"

The pair followed Stephen's gaze. Standing on the grass, facing a small handful of kids, was a man. His hair was wild, his stature short but incredibly solid. While it was hard to tell exactly what he was saying, his voice itself was gruff and gravelly, like unpolished rocks rubbing against one another. He spoke rather matter-of-factly but there was a subdued passion in his body language, like he was talking about a beloved hobby.

"Oh, that's Logan," Jean replied, an odd look crossing her face. "He's one of our teachers here."

Stephen watched, enraptured, as Logan called on one of the kids. He stood up, a bit sheepish, before raising his hands. Multiple chunks of ice shot from his palms, careening towards their teacher. Without even flinching, Logan wound back, giving a solid kick to each projectile and shattering them. One of the kids clapped and hooted, earning him a glare that had no true fire behind it.

"Excellent work, Logan," Xavier called, making his way across the grass with Jean and Stephen in tow. "What's the lesson today?"

"Self-defense without using your powers," Logan replied. His eyes were like molten gold, sharp and attentive. "With the rise of anti-mutant weapons, I thought it'd be good for them to be self-reliant.

"No, that's an excellent point, I agree wholeheartedly," Xavier leaned back a fraction, gesturing behind him. "I'm sorry to interrupt but we have a visitor. Logan, this is Dr.Stephen Strange. He's a emissary of sorts on behalf of the Avengers."

"Avengers, huh? Well don't start throwing around lawsuits or whatever, we're not that type."

Logan shook his hand, firm but not hard enough to hurt. Stephen couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

"That's SHIELD actually," He explained, smiling. "We're usually too busy getting beat to shit to worry about politics and money."

Logan cracked a minute smile that shot an arrow straight through Stephen's heart. He had no clue why he was so immediately infatuated, maybe the loneliness, probably the loneliness, but he was already having such a good time, he decided to roll with it.

"Perhaps you and Logan could give us a little demonstration?" Xavier steepled his fingers, a playful smirk on his face. "It would be good for the children to see some combat from different teams."

"I could use a little workout." Logan nodded, rolling his shoulders and popping his spine. He peeled off his leather jacket, exposing well-defined biceps and a chest like steel beneath a white tank top.

"I mean," Stephen blanched a bit. He didn't expect a sparring match to become part of the tour. "If you're fine with it--"

Logan had already stepped back a good distance, feet spread out and staggered forward in a fighting stance. A sharp scraping noise came from his hands as six metallic claws unsheathed from between his knuckles. Stephen watched, eyes wide. Next time there was an Avengers/X-Men team up, he swore to himself to actually be there. He peeled off his coat, the children letting out a gasp of delight as it vanished completely. He rolled up his sleeves, feeling rather silly with his gloves still on, and summoned up his favorite broadsword, one with a sparkling emerald embedded into the guard.

"Begin!"

Stephen wasn't sure who spoke but, like a bolt of lightning, Logan came streaking down the grass. He cut upwards, only to parried by the flat of Stephen's blade. Sparks flew as metal on metal collided. Logan looked a bit surprised, quickly smothering it with a second swipe from his left. Stephen summoned up a short sword, catching between his claws. They stayed interlocked for a moment, nearly nose-to-nose, before Stephen simultaneously kicked him square in the chest and let his weapons evaporate into nothing. Logan skidded backwards, a rain of grass knocked up by his feet. He took a wider path this time, leading with a round-kick, followed by a slash downwards. Stephen summoned up a shield, pushing the kick away and deflecting the claws with a second shield. He threw it, amazed as Logan's claws sliced it to shreds.

"I've never seen someone destroy my weapons like that before!" Stephen laughed, adrenaline coursing through him. "You've got some sharp claws there!"

"Ain't nothing sharper, bub!" Logan replied, grinning wildly.

He made to lunge again, easily dodging each silver spear Stephen lobbed his way. Keeping low to the ground, Logan swept forward, using a low kick to knock the sorcerer onto his ass. In a panic, Stephen conjured up a dagger and thrust forward.

"Ugh!"

Panic and horror carved itself into Stephen's heart. He drew his hand back. The dagger was lodged firmly into Logan's kidney. He let out an airy chuckle, his eyes wide.

"Impressive," Something passed over Logan's face, intrigue, delight, surprise. "I thought you big league schmucks were too soft. Guess I was wrong."

He yanked the dagger out, handing it over Stephen who watched in awe. In mere seconds, the bleeding stopped, the wound scabbed over, and it fully healed. All that was left was a hole in his tank top and a few stray drops of blood staining the cotton. Stephen let the blade disappear in a puff of smoke, taking Logan's hand to help him onto his feet.

"Next time you're local and you want a work out," Logan tipped his head to the side, an almost predatory smirk on his lips. "Give me a call."

With that, he made his way back to his class, picking up right where he left off. Jean and Xavier sidled over, wearing nearly the exact same smug grin.

"D'you think you'll be 'local' again some time, doctor?" Jean said.

Stephen turned to her, wonder shimmering in his eyes.

"I think I just might be."

 

Just a few days later, Stephen was back, a pep in his step and a lightness in his chest. He made sure to talk with every kid who spoke his name, trying to memorize theirs. Kitty, Evan, Rogue, Amara, Bobby, Jamie, Roberto. It was hard to keep up but he tried his best. 

"Oh, Stephen!" Jean caught him trapped within a rather intense interrogation, swarmed by at least four kids. "Are you here for Hank?"

"Yes! I was hoping we could meet today," Stephen beamed. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, not at all, he's just a little... Preoccupied. You can hang around if you want, he'll be a few minutes."

"Gotcha, thanks, Dr.Grey."

Jean smiled, her green eyes shimmering with delight, before she herded the kids away from the sorcerer and towards their classes. Stephen took to wandering the halls until he made his way into the kitchen. It was nearly empty, save for the farthest seat by the window. Logan sat with a newspaper draped across his lap, a coffee in one hand and a half-eaten bagel in the other. He looked up briefly, golden-hazel eyes meeting Stephen's, before returning to his reading. 

As he claimed a seat at the kitchen island, a girl crept in. She looked a lot younger than the rest of the kids, barely a teen, her body language tense and afraid. He'd never seen her before or anyone that resembled her. Stephen watched as she slowly reached for the refrigerator, only to jump back as a bolt of static jumped from her hand to the door. She sniffled, rubbing her fingers to ease the sting.

Just as Stephen went to open his mouth, he heard the shuffling of paper. Logan rose from his seat towards the girl. Gently, he opened up the fridge, leaning back for her to look inside.

"Whaddya want, kiddo?" His voice was soft, softer than Stephen thought was possible for a man nicknamed 'The Wolverine'.

The little girl gestured at the gallon of chocolate milk. Moving just as slowly and carefully, Logan retrieved a glass from the cupboard and poured for her, filling it nearly all the way. He set the milk back in the fridge, keeping an eye out to make sure he didn't spook her.

"Take whatever you want, okay? You don't have to be afraid anymore, no one's gonna punish you."

Reaching into the fruit bowl, Logan unsheathed his claws. It was a gradual reveal, devoid of it's usual gruesome sound effect. He sliced the apple into wedges, setting them on a plate and pushing them across the counter for her.

"I know you haven't eaten since last night," Logan spoke again. He didn't smile but his demeanor was open and kind. "Go ahead."

It took her a few moments but she finally took the plate and the glass. Logan watched as she crept out of the kitchen and towards one of the mansion's sitting rooms, no doubt eager for a quiet space alone. Sniffling loudly, Logan gave Stephen a sideways glance.

"We picked her up yesterday," He explained, reclaiming his seat and whipping open his newspaper. "Major abuse. Charles's trying to get some sorta temporary custody so she doesn't wind up back in that hellhole again."

Stephen nodded. He felt a little sick in his stomach at the idea of someone abusing such a small and innocent child. He knew she was in better hands now.

"Ah! Dr.Strange!" Hank peered into the kitchen, lips spread in an excited grin. "I'm sorry for the wait-- follow me, I'll show you the lab!"

Stephen eased off his stool, glancing over his shoulder back at Logan. He was reading in silence, taking a long drink from his coffee. He fit so perfectly there, like he belonged, like there was no better place for him to be.

Picking up his feet, Stephen left.

 

 

Over the coming months, Stephen made a habit of visiting the X-Mansion at least once a week, sometimes more if his schedule allowed it. He got along perfectly with Hank McCoy, a prolific study of mutant-kind and the leading politician in the race for mutant rights. He was polite and well-mannered but the glint in his eyes told Stephen he'd had a good amount of fire in his youth. They were fast friends, bonding over newly released medical journals, sharing a microscope at 2am, taking quick lunch breaks before plunging back into work. Stephen felt like his was back in med school but this time, he wasn't so lonely.

When he wasn't with Hank, he was often being followed by a small army of students, all eager to have their questions answered. Stephen didn't mind, they were all good kids, but it was overwhelming at times. He was used to dealing with adults, foul-mouthed, hot-headed, trigger-happy adults. It was hard to face children, so innocent and bright-eyed, and not unravel.

Every time felt a little overwhelmed but still craved the allure of the X-Mansion, he found Logan.

He wasn't a hard man to find, despite his best efforts. He hung out at very few places, often in the dining room, out in the backyard, or in the garage. The latter seemed to be his favorite, surrounded by silence and the company of cars and trucks and bikes. He was often elbow deep in a project, grease slicked handsomely across his cheek, his already wild hair somehow less tame.

Stephen swooned. A lot.

He wasn't quite sure why, even after weeks and weeks, months and months. Logan wasn't he usual type. He was rough and gritty, kept to himself, an unpolished crag sat against a solitary ocean. Yet he was quietly kind with the kids, he was witty and sarcastic, he had a solid moral compass and a taste for action. Plus, he wore sinfully tight jeans and exclusively leather jackets. It wasn't that hard to see the appeal.

"Strange? Hey, Strange!"

Stephen blinked rapidly, slowly shifting back to the present. Logan had a quizzical look on his face, his open palm stretched outwards 

"I said 'pass the wrench' at least five times now. You off in some other dimension or something?"

"You could say that," Stephen muttered, digging around for the tool and handing it over. Wearing such nice clothes had been a mistake, he was already sporting two massive oil stains. "What were we talking about?"

"You were rambling about your work with Hank," Logan took the wrench, reaching under his bike's chassis to continue his work. "Politics and shit."

"You care more than you act," Stephen teased, crossing his legs underneath him. "You want the kids to have a better future than your own upbringing."

"No shit," Logan grunted. "That equal opportunity mutant medical bill was a damn good first step."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't easy, trust me."

"Huh?"

Stephen pressed his lips tight together, fingers drumming against his knees.

"I would know, I got it passed." He replied, almost shyly.

"You what--"

Logan snapped his head upwards, knocking his temple against the bike's gas tank. He cursed softly but fixed Stephen with a look of pure wonder.

"I thought Hank..."

"He was out sick that day. I took his place."

Logan inhaled slowly, his fist clenching in his lap. He opened his mouth a few times, only to shut it. It took him a while to speak.

"... Thank you. Really. That uh. That's. That's pretty huge. For us, I mean." Logan stammered, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

"You're people," Stephen shrugged. His smile was lopsided but genuine. "You guys deserve the same rights as any human would. A little displacement in your genes shouldn't keep you from basic medical care."

"Yeah, well. Not everyone thinks that. And not everyone has a healing factor."

"Yeah, and people who disagree are fucking bastards who revel in being as horrible as they can for kicks," Stephen's hands fiddled idly in his lap. "It's speciesist. Is that. Is that the right word? It sounds offensive."

Logan snickered and a spark of warmth settled in the pit of Stephen's gut. He'd face a billion violent angry anti-mutant protestors if it meant seeing that smile again.

 

 

"--which is probably how those mutant suppression booster shots are being manufactured." Dr.McCoy passed over a packet of scientific journals, his face grim yet excited.

Stephen tapped his fingers against his chin, nodding slowly.

"I think you might be onto something, Hank, something big--"

Just then, his phone buzzed. Stephen pulled it out, ignoring Hank's playful jab, and read the text.

 

**DR DOOM @ TIMES SQUARE, ASSEMBLE**

"A call to action?" Hank asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Seems like it," Stephen groaned, tucking his phone away. "God dammit. We've been on such a roll--"

"Don't worry, I can wrap up and keep this all on hold for you," Hank grinned, patting his shoulder affectionately. "Go get 'em-- oh! Why not bring Wolverine with you?"

"Wolverine?"

Stephen inhaled slowly, his brain running at a million miles per hour. He, the Avengers, and the X-Men had teamed up a few times in the past month. With Stephen as the bridge between them, their attempts were usually successful, involving less casualties and faster missions. Bringing along a single X-Man would probably be beneficial.

"Not just for the mission." Hank quirked his brow, sharp fangs glinting within his mischievous grin.

"I thought you were a man of science," Stephen spluttered, drawing up a portal into the X-Mansion garage. "Too intelligent for petty drama."

"We all have our weaknesses," He shrugged, nudging Stephen through the portal. "Now hurry, or you'll get an earful later."

Hopping through the barrier, Stephen was surprised to find Logan already suited up, his cowl flipped back. He should've looked ridiculous, donned in orange and black skin-tight leather, but he somehow pulled it off.

"Oh. Logan. Uhh am I interrupting?"

"Hm? Nope, I just got outta some training in the Danger Room," Logan tilted his head to the side, much like a confused puppy. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Doctor Doom. He's causing some trouble in Times Square. Wanna tag along?"

Logan unsheathed his claws, a macabre grin stretched across his face.

"You bet I do."

 

The pair leapt through the portal and found themselves in the heart of the action. Instead of facing that terrifying Elmo mascot that usually wandered the block, they found the good Doctor instead, cackling like a manic as he tore up Times Square. Logan sidestepped a hunk of concrete, tugging on his cowl with a smirk.

"What's the game plan?" He asked, taking Stephen's side.

"He's too high up for you to hit," The sorcerer strategized. He conjured up a shield, knocking back debris. "I need you to play defense instead. If you can keep back all this rubble, I can get a good few hits in."

"Got it."

Stephen dropped the shield, his heart shuddering as Logan sliced clean through a massive sheet of metal, the severed pieces falling harmlessly to the ground. Summoning a ball of burning energy, Stephen hurled it towards Doctor Doom. He snickered as the technopath's cape caught on fire, throwing off his carefully planned chaos. He returned a wave of TVs wrenched out of a nearby store, each screen sliced to shreds by Wolverine. The pattern held, Stephen hanging back as Logan carved him a path of safety, then surging forward to unleash a torrent of magical punishment. It worked seamlessly for a good bit, at least until the Avengers arrived.

"They're here!" Stephen called, watching Logan's back. 

His focus wavered, taking a moment to spot the jet zooming overhead with the familiar silhouette of Iron Man trailing behind. Doctor Doom took the opportunity, once again dipping his hand into the electronics store and raining down hellfire. Stephen panicked, making a split-second decision in that moment. He tackled Wolverine out of the way, taking the brunt of the attack. The pair skidded across the asphalt, skittering to a halt under the protective shade of some abandoned construction.

 

Logan felt the sharp stab of ice through his veins. Stephen was bleeding heavily, a sizeable gash etched into his temple. Scrambling across the concrete, he scooped the slim wizard up into his arms, fumbling around for his comm-link.

"Hullo? Hullo?! Anyone, answer!"

A moment of static and the feedback cleared, a strong and steely voice replying.

" _Who is this? And what have you done with Doctor--_ "

"This is Wolverine, one of the X-Men," Logan barked back. "Is this Captain America?"

" _Yeah, what's the problem?_ "

"Strange's hurt real bad, we need backup here."

Cap's tone shifted from accusatory to panicked to controlled and resolute.

" _Roger. I'll be there as fast as I can. Keep him safe._ "

"You've got nothing to worry about, just. Hurry up."

The comm fizzled before shutting off. Logan hissed out a breath through his teeth. Stephen was barely conscious, eyes glassy and distant. Peeling off one of his gloves, Logan tentatively poked around the wound. Stephen flinched, letting out a pained gasp. Immediately, Logan drew back.

"You fucking  _idiot_ ," Logan seethed. "You know I can heal, are you insane?!"

"You... Would've gotten... Hit bad..." Stephen slurred.

"And I would've bounced back twice as fast--"

"That doesn't mean... You should just... Let yourself... Get hurt."

Logan's eyes went wide. His breathing quickened, his jaw aching from how hard he grit his teeth. He pulled Stephen closer, pillowing one sharp cheekbone against the swell of his chest. The sorcerer seemed soothed, his body relaxing a fraction. Logan held him tight. Just outside their little barrier, Doom's onslaught continued. He seemed to have moved on, no longer concerned with the pair. It felt like ages until Logan heard the familiar whine of repulsor blasts and a hail of gunfire, followed by the distant boom of explosive ammunition.

"Hello?! Doctor Strange? Wolverine?!"

Logan startled, holding Stephen tighter in his arms. Someone shuffled under the massive tarp, easing towards them. A hand went up, peeling back a blue cowl, revealing a rather boyish face beneath a mop of golden blond hair.

"I'm Captain America," He soothed, inching his way closer. "The jet is parked around the corner, I can get him to the compound in under ten minutes, we have medical staff on hand who already know we're coming."

Logan felt paralyzed. He'd been here before, cradling a loved one in his arms, feeling small and scared and helpless. Something steeled inside him though, and he went entirely numb. With very little effort, he stood, carrying Stephen securely in his arms.

"Lead the way then, bub." He growled and they hit the ground running.

 

Logan paced the med-bay floor, grumbling under his breath. He was in hot water again, working himself up into a lather until he threatened to overflow. Damned idiot, throwing himself so carelessly into the fray. He was too smart for that, too well trained. Why would he do something so stupid?

Logan's heart thudded in his chest. Hot water indeed.

He paced even harder until the door slid open with a hydraulic hiss. Captain America looked a lot less threatening in civilian clothes, his mop of golden blond hair messy and unkempt, his larger frame squeezed into a t-shirt and jeans. He watched Logan for a minute before stepping in.

"Hey," He spoke up, his expression remorseful. "You should take a break, you'll wear yourself thin at this rate."

"I'm fine." Logan growled back.

With a sigh, Cap reached into his back pocket, pulling a white key card from his wallet.

"Just. Take this," He held it outward, unflinching in the sights of Logan's feral glare. "Mutant or no, you need food and rest. This card'll let any SHIELD goons know you're a certified visitor. Plus, it'll get you unlimited snacks. 3rd floor, west wing, there's a really good selection of vending machines that no one ever uses. Get yourself something, they've got coffee too, surprisingly decent coffee. Please."

Logan looked between the card and Cap's face. After a moment, he snatched it up, still muttering under his breath. Cap laid a hand on his shoulder, smiling kindly.

"I swear, I'll keep watch. If he wakes up, you'll be the first to know."

"... Why are you being so nice?" Logan asked, his voice guarded and low.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Cap smiled a bit more strongly, tilting his head to the side. "We're all just people, right?"

 

When Logan returned, three bags of chips and two granola bars settling in his stomach, Stephen was awake. He spoke to Cap in a hushed voice, his eyes lidded, his skin a bit pale. Cap muttered something incoherent, prompting a weak laugh from the sorcerer. They finally noticed Logan standing at the door, a half-empty coffee in his hand. Clearing his throat, Cap stood.

"He only just woke up, I swear," He raised his hands apologetically. He seemed genuine. "I'll give you two some space."

With a small smile, Cap left. 

The air felt thick with apprehension. Logan shifted from foot to foot, watching as Stephen fumbled for a drink of water. The cup tipped and, in a split second, Logan rushed over, catching it before it spilled. Stephen beamed.

"Thanks." He whispered as Logan set the cup down.

"Yeah, no problem."

Taking the now empty seat, Logan passed his own drink from hand to hand, anxiously tapping his foot. He opened his mouth a few times, unable to string the right line of words together.

"You look real handsome right now." Stephen slurred.

Inhaling sharply, Logan met his gaze. Stephen's head lolled as he gestured to the machinery beside him.

"They've got me on the real good shit," He giggled. "I feel nnnnnothing."

"Good," Logan grumbled, eyes downcast again. "You shouldn't--"

"Oh shhhut up, Howlett," Stephen snapped, rolling his eyes. "You're so emotionally constipated, I swear to god."

"... I don't--"

"You can't control the choices other people make," Stephen continued, waving a limp hand. "I made my decision. You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do, especially based on my own sense of judgement."

Logan snorted, though a minute smile lingered on his lips.

"I always thought I was the stubborn one." He spoke up.

"Yeah well. No. You'd be wrong."

They went quiet for a moment. Logan helped feed the straw into his mouth so Stephen could take a much needed drink. All sorts of scanners and tubing beeped quietly. Logan sniffled. He hated the smell of antiseptic and latex. It reminded him of far too painful memories.

"So why did you--"

"Don't. Act so dumb," Stephen sighed, letting his head fall back against the cot pillows. "You're not dumb, you're smart. Smarter than you let on."

"... You can still tell me."

Stephen's head flopped to the side. Despite the sheer amount of painkillers running through his system, his verdigris eyes were still sharp, cutting right through Logan like glass. He reached out, taking Logan's hand in a weak grip. 

"Because I care about you, dumbass. I care about your dumb hair and your dumb muttonchops and your dumb cigars and your dumb motorcycle and your dumb leather jackets and your dumb jeans that are way too tight for a man your age and your dumb claws and your dumb eyes that always look like liquid gold and your dumb gruff voice that sounds like a crackling fireplace and the embers burning within an--"

"Okay, okay, I uh. I get it." Logan gently squeezed his hand. He could feel his cheeks glowing.

"... You mean a lot to me, Lo," Stephen added quietly. "And... I don't like seeing you get hurt. Even if you can bounce back from anything, you still... Feel pain."

"Yeah. I'm. Yeah..."

"I'm not gonna remember any of this," Stephen's eyes fluttered shut. He looked so vulnerable, most of his head wrapped in bandages, his thin frame swallowed by the starkly white sheets. "But... I wanna at least know..."

Logan cleared his throat. He cradled Stephen's hands between his, running the rough pad of his thumb along the map of scars there. They were beginning to fade but they would never fade completely. Lifting his hand, Logan ghosted his lips against prominent knuckles. It was barely a kiss, more a simple press of skin to skin.

"Yeah." Logan let the word linger on his tongue.

Stephen smiled and didn't speak again for a long while.

 

 

Stephen was tired. He ached down to his DNA, every atom in his body groggily shifting in place, a low hum like a dying engine. He tried to inhale deeply but all he could manage was a shuddering gasp. Taking his time, he tried again, slower. The cold New York air soothed his lungs. He could taste pine and rain and freshly turned soil on his tongue.

Xavier's Institute was safe. It had been for a solid week now with its unwavering sorcerer sentry erecting a field around it. Something big and powerful was on its way, somehow, somewhere, and he'd sensed it. Stephen maintained the barrier for about 160hr straight now, perched at the fringe of the estate. He barely ate or drank, meditating to sustain himself nearly the whole time. He was starving. He was parched.

 

He didn't quit.

Stephen blinked his eyes open as someone shuffled up beside him. It was Logan, an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth and a few things clutched beneath his arm. He set up a little portable side table, setting down a 6-pack of beer atop it, and shook out a folding chair. It took a few attempts and a litany of grumbled curses, but he managed to work it open, earning a soft giggle from Stephen.

Sitting beside him, Logan unsheathed one set of claws and popped open two bottles.

"You doin' okay?" His voice was quiet, tender almost.

"I'm... Alright," Stephen managed. "Tired. Hungry. Thirsty. But alright."

"Do you hafta float with your legs all crossed like that?" Logan gave him a sideways glance as he drank. "Looks impressive but awfully.... Uncomfortable."

"Don't worry," Stephen laughed. "It feels nice actually."

"Huh. I'll take your word for it."

They sat in silence for a little. Morning doves crooned from the trees above them. After a moment, Logan cleared his throat.

"Do you uh... Need help with that?"

Stephen blinked owlishly. He looked between the opened bottle and Logan's face. Chewing on his lower lip, he nodded a fraction. Rising from his seat, Logan picked up the bottle and very gingerly held it to Stephen's lips. He helped him drink, watching a few errant beads of hard cider trickle down his lips, vanishing in the close cropped scruff of his goatee. When he was satiated, Logan set the bottle down, slowly sinking into his seat.

"Ah! That's some good shit," Stephen beamed. "I mean. Anything would taste like heaven right now but. You know what I mean."

"Yeah," Logan muttered into the neck of his own drink. "It's my favorite so."

"... Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

They sat together for a long while, occasionally breaking the silence with quiet chatter. It was a less taxing ordeal with company, shared words to keep him lucid, and a warm feeling in his gut.

"When this... Thing finally shows up," Logan rumbled, nursing his third cider. "I was wondering if uh..."

"Yes?"

Logan scratched at his cheek, brown eyes downcast. Stephen had never seen him so gentle, so soft, so warm. Inhaling sharply, Logan met his gaze.

"If you'd want me to take you on uh a ride. On my bike. To uh. Well, there's this place up in Vermont-- it's not. It is a place, its a forest-- that sounds wrong, its. I like to drive there and kinda... Think and maybe after all this we can. Y'know--"

"You wanna take me on a bike ride to a forest in Vermont?" Stephen quirked his brow, holding back a smile.

"We can... Camp? Drink, eat, I'm. You've been here for our little. I can grill, you've. Had my brawts--"

"That sounds lovely, Logan, I'd be honored."

Logan coughed a bit, sniffling loudly. He made a little extra noise as he packed up all the empty bottles, folding up his chair and leaning it against the table. After a moment's thought, he pushed the table closer to Stephen, taking the chair under his arm.

"I dunno if you hafta be.... Elevated but uh. If you get tired of floating there. Feel free."

"Thank you, Logan, I appreciate that."

"I'll uh. Be back in a few hours," He straightened up a bit, like a soldier at attention. "To keep you company. If you want."

"If you can bring some snacks next time, it's a date." Stephen smiled, winking playfully.

Logan nodded before he made his way back into the mansion, his fevered muttering somehow softer in tone. Stephen watched him leave, a warmth blossoming in his chest.

Back to work.

 

"Alright. What've you got for me today?"

 

Stephen stood at the doors of his infinite walk-in closet, wearing only a pair of briefs and a loose fitting shirt (a kind hand-me-down from Steve Rogers). On most days, he didn't really care what he wore, happy to indulge the Sanctum's often odd tastes for the sake of convenience. Today, however, he had his own opinions.

"I've got a date with Wolverine, okay?" Stephen spoke up, crossing his arms. "I've described him for you-- gruff, a little short-tempered, lone wolf type, but real sweet deep down. Oh, and very Canadian. Can you match that somehow?"

The doors eeked open, inviting him inside. Stephen stepped in without hesitation. The experience was still hard to explain, even after all these years. It was like being enshrouded in endless darkness but a warm and comforting sort of inky black eternity. He felt stepping into the closet was the closest he'd ever get to touching the true entity that controlled the Sanctum Sanctorum.

Hopping back out, Stephen modeled for his slim floor to ceiling mirror. He wore tight crimson leather pants, a leather biker jacket, and a loose fitting cotton crop top underneath, as well as knee-high black boots and a red bandana around his neck.

"Are you serious?" He groaned. "What fucking year is it? This is a nice date between adults to a remote forest for dinner and star-gazing. Let's try again, alright?"

Stephen stepped back in, and slid back out. Now he had a flower crown on along with denim bell-bottoms and a baggy tank top. When he twisted his hips, his beaded belt rattled, and he found a flower-shaped decal sewn into his back pocket.

"Jesus christ," Stephen said in awe. "You got WORSE. C'mon, please work with me here, I've been interested in this guy for a while now and I think it's going well. One more time!"

With his eyes clenched shut, Stephen let the Sanctum swallow him in once more. When he opened his eyes, he beamed at his reflection. He was much more presentable in an open flannel shirt and snug fitting navy blue jeans. The legs were rolled up a few inches, showing off dark brown army-style boots, and the black t-shirt underneath had a faded Queen graphic across the chest.

"Oh, hell yeah," Stephen laughed, turning this way and that. "God, this brings back memories. Excellent job, five stars, round of applause."

The walls creaked and groaned and Stephen knew the Sanctum was glowing with pride.

"Alright then," He slipped on a pair of aviator sunglasses, excitement almost vibrating through his body. "Let's hit the fucking road."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Logan had impeccable taste.

First, the ride. His Harley was an antique almost, older than Stephen yet in perfect condition. It purred like a cheetah and took every hill, curve, and bump as smooth as silk. Stephen had the honor of riding as the passenger, long limbs wrapped tight around Logan's middle, the smell of his faded leather jacket still buried deep inside Stephen's helmet. It was a three and a half hour ride but it went by fast, almost too fast.

Next, the location. Green Mountain National Forest was nothing like Stephen had ever seen. The trees were tall and lush, a rainbow of autumnal shades. There were crystalline lakes and burbling creeks. The air was so clean and so pure, Stephen felt like his lungs were being healed from the inside out. It was straight out of a postcard, or maybe even a Disney movie.

"This is... Incredible," Stephen gushed. "How did you find this place?"

"Intuition?" Logan shrugged. "I like to take long rides and just sorta... Stumbled on this place."

With his hands on his hips and his shoes perched at the lake's edge, Stephen simply breathed for a bit. He felt more relaxed and at peace than he had for a very long time. Breaking the silence, Logan cleared his throat.

"Do you wanna uh walk around or...?"

Stephen opened his eyes, turning to his companion with a grin.

"That sounds wonderful."

 

After years of being close friends with Hank McCoy, Stephen was wary about pinning any sort of animalistic tendencies on animalesque mutants. He learned that, no matter their mutation, they were still human.

Logan seemed to break that mantra entirely.

He looked perfectly at home here, his silhouette blending in with the forest and his stride more confident than Stephen had ever seen. When he closed his eyes, his face warmed by the sun, sniffing at the air like a bloodhound after its prey, he looked entirely like himself. He splashed freezing cold water from the creek onto his face, drinking deeply from the palm of his hand. He dragged his fingers across the trees, following the pine deeper into the forest, yet not once did he seem lost.

"I always thought you were torturing yourself," Stephen spoke up, watching his step as he hopped across slick rocks. "When you went out on your own for so long. But I'm beginning to realize this is just... Home to you, isn't it? You're not some anguished lone wolf, this is your happy place."

Logan turned to him and, for maybe the first time since they'd met, gave an honest to god delighted grin. Stephen stumbled, his footing unsure, and his legs were swept out from under him. Two strong arms lurched forward, winding around his slim waist to drag him out of the creek and back on solid ground. They stayed like that for a moment, gasping for breath, until Logan suddenly released his hold and marched back onto his trail.

"Oh. Uh. Thank you." Stephen managed feebly, falling into stride behind him.

 

They walked for a little longer until they came across a small clearing. There was a sizeable patch of grass nestled in the center of a ring of trees. It was quaint, like someone had come through and tidied up for visitors, setting down pretty little flowers and the occasional shiny rock. Above them, the sun was nearly halfway through its downward descent.

"I can start cooking if you wanna set up camp." Logan spoke up.

"Sure, yeah, I can do that."

Tracing a golden circle in the air, Stephen summoned a window. He'd created his own pocket dimension ages ago and it only seemed to grow over time. It didn't take long for him to fish out the supplies Logan had thrown in; a cooler, a portable grill, two tents, two sleeping bags, and a few miscellaneous necessities.

As Logan grilled, the tantalizing scent of meat wafting through the air, Stephen struggled with the tents. The instructions were confusing and poorly labeled and his dexterity waned as he grew older. He dropped what seemed like a pole every other second, his fingers fumbling the slippery canvas. It was a while until Logan finally caved, abandoning his grill to quickly finish the job.

"Sorry," Stephen said bashfully. "Not really my strong suit I guess."

"No problem."

Logan was a man of few words and it'd taken a long time to acclimate to it. Stephen had to pick up quickly that such short answers didn't stem from anger or frustration, but simply from a desire to be mostly quiet. It was a welcome relief from Stephen's usual company.

As the sun continued its descent, cloaked by streaks of fluffy white clouds, Logan finished grilling. He passed Stephen a paper plate topped with two hot dogs and an ear of corn. He watched as the sorcerer took a bite.

"Good?" Logan asked, clicking his tongs absentmindedly. "I'm a purist so I hope you don't mind I didn't bring ketchup or anything--"

"No, no, it's really good," Stephen grinned, taking another bigger bite. "You sure are a grillmaster, huh?"

"Yeah well," Logan had a small private smile on his lips. "I've had a lot of practice."

They continued to eat in silence, chairs sat close to each other. When the food was done and their trash bagged and thrown back into the pocket dimension, Logan broke out the beer. They drank, watching the sunset stream through the pine above them.

"I uh, wanted to thank you. Well. We, all of us, wanted to thank you."

Stephen quirked his brow, rolling the mouth of his beer back and forth across his lower lip. Logan looked about as bashful as he could physically get, his gaze pointed away, his boot tapping anxiously at the grass.

"You've done a lot for us these past coupla years," Logan nodded as if he were agreeing with himself. "The kids really seem inspired by you and I know everyone loves your company. I can't get anyone to shut the fuck up about you."

Stephen laughed, a faint flush crawling up his cheeks. Logan seemed motivated by it, speaking up a bit louder.

"I know  _I've_  really appreciated your company. You don't... Try and change me like so many people do. You let me be me," Logan stared hard at the drink in his hands, his jaw set. "You don't pry much and you respect my want to be alone. People don't... Usually do that."

"Well I wouldn't dream of changing you," Stephen replied, his tone hushed. "I think you're perfectly fine as you are."

Logan met his eyes finally, a marriage of burning gold and soothing green. He moved slowly, nestling his beer between the leg of his chair and the grass as he leaned closer. Stephen watched, holding his breath, unmoving. When Logan was a mere inch away, time seemed to stop entirely. 

"I..." Logan whispered, blinking rapidly. "I want..."

With a smile, Stephen closed the gap between them.

Logan's lips were warm, a little chapped, and tasted like beer and cigars. The kiss was chaste, a simple meeting of lips, but held years of pent up affection and timid adoration. Stephen could nearly feel the sheer amount of want within it.

They pulled away, eyes wide, blanketed in the tawny beams of sunset.

"How many years--"

Logan cut him off, surging forward for another kiss. Their lips molded together, dancing an intimate waltz that ran deep. Logan cupped his cheek as Stephen buried his hand in his hair. It wasn't long before Logan was rising from his seat, propping a knee between Stephen's thighs, eager to line their bodies together, to press as far and deep as his mortal skin would allow. A quick gasp for air was overwritten by another searing kiss, and another, and another. Logan nipped at Stephen's lower lip. Stephen dug his fingers into Logan's ribs. As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, blotting out the sky in a blanket of stars, they began to slow, one kiss bleeding into the next. It was a good while before they stopped, still held tight together, their lips dragging against each other's.

"'Bout time." Stephen muttered, prompting a delighted chuckle.

"I'm an old man, Strange," Logan grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I move slow."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to leave kudos and comments!  
> You can find me over at doobler on Tumblr and, if you enjoy this top tier ship, check out my "strangerine" tag :)


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